


and the Queen will conquer

by Gypsy_Leprechaun, Nekomiko



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fork in the road AU, Gen, eventual butterfly bog, evil queen au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsy_Leprechaun/pseuds/Gypsy_Leprechaun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomiko/pseuds/Nekomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Roland, Marianne couldn't stomach staying in the Light Fields any longer. </p>
<p>With newly hardened skills she travels to the Dark Forest to seek a new life for herself. But discovering the freshly crowned King she takes a chance and usurps him, becoming the new Queen of the Dark Forest.</p>
<p>Bog learns the hard way to take back his throne from the fairy invader, and Marianne learns the secrets of the of her new kingdom. </p>
<p>Know your enemy, and even loathing can turn to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hated Green

Green.

Green wings. Green grass. Blindingly green armour. Lying green eyes.

She hated it. Green was like poison, too bright and too painful. The sun seemed to shine daggers into her eyes; all she wanted was the light to dim.

Marianne sat down at her vanity and looked at the reflection. A pale, lifeless face greeted her. Two eyes, hollow and red, squinted in the mirror as it reflected the hated sunshine. Mussed hair from the furious flight back to the castle. A ruined wedding dress.

Her handmaidens crooned around her, flitting, trying to fix small useless details in an attempt to make her feel better. A lighter shade of green to her left made her skin tight, but it was only Ida, the green flowered handmaiden. She handed Marianne the boutonniere, placing it gently behind her ear.

Marianne paused, and reached up to pick the flower from her hair. Cradling it in her palms, she thought about what it represented. She looked at the flower pensively, away from the horrid reflection. Red petals meant passion, yellow meant longevity, it’s handmade quality meant effort, and placing it next to the heart or head represented its intention.

Feeling the petals between her fingers, Marianne crushed them savagely. The handmaidens backed away, Ida retreating farther than the rest. Coldness settled in her chest, her fingernails dug through the soft flower hitting her palms. Her fingers tensed until pain shot through her fingers, and she cast the ruined flower to the floor violently, as if repulsed.

Dawn had come to the door earlier, she pondered vaguely, wiping her hands on her dress. Dawn, with her bright and naïve eyes, her hope, and her wonder, and love.

_I’ll never fall in love again._

Her eyes met the stranger in the mirror. Marianne looked at her unkempt appearance; wild and savage like the cold fury in her chest. She eyed her handmaidens in the mirror, softening a little.

“Teach me.” Her voice cracked from crying, eyes hard. “I want to be stronger than this.”

Little chirps were their response. Quiet, but positive. Agreement.

She nodded, turning around.

“Teach me,” she repeated. “Get me a sword.”

In a short moment the three flew out the window, creating a slight breeze in their wake. The breeze felt good in her hair, but she paid it no heed. There was work to do.

* * *

 

Time passed. Marianne had shut the curtains to keep out the sunshine, so she wasn’t sure how long it had been.

Every now and again Dawn would knock tentatively on the door, sometimes with food, sometimes with Sunny, and sometimes alone. Every time she was met with I’m busy, Dawn or please, not right now. Marianne felt bad about it, but the cold fury still sat in her breast, and the fog in her mind kept her fixated on her task.

She was impressed by how fast she had progressed. The handmaidens were good teachers, and the hours of swordplay had cracked open a new outlook on life for her. Every now and again she would ask for a new item to help her progress, and the cold anger kept her motivation high; it’s amazing how fast one can learn when they cut out everything else.

The sound of clashing metal ringing in her ears day after day became the norm. It was as common as a conversation, familiar and welcomed. It reminded her of her goal. Once or twice, Dawn (and only Dawn) had sat on the remains of the petal-bed and watched her, a glimmer of fear and a sense of awe evident behind her eyelashes.

The King was forbidden to enter. After the first visit (after Dawn had reported that the wedding was off) the fairy king had come to convince his heir to change her mind. Marianne had whirled around at the mention of Roland’s name, sword poised and eyes ablaze. She had pointed her sword right at the throat of the king, her father, and through gritted teeth ordered him to leave. The guards at the door reported that the king’s knees had been shaking on the way out.

The only light permitted in the room was the light of the moon. It was a softer light, comforting and cold, unlike the glare of sunlight glittering across green armour.

The longer she stayed in the Light Fields, the more she began to feel like an outsider. Wildness refused to leave her, and sharpness settled into her bones with heartening familiarity.

So with the next full moon, alongside the slow waning of the moon, she left. Forever.


	2. Hidden Violet

She left silently in the night. A cloak had been requested of the handmaidens, and they hadn’t disappointed. The first few times Marianne had asked for things, she received them bejeweled and decorative. They had been immediately thrown out the window, and the lesson was learned. The cloak was old, dirty, tattered and worn. It was perfect for sneaking out of the castle unseen.

The glimmer of her violet wings were too noticeable even in the dark. Marianne would have left on different night, but she needed the moon to be able to see.The moon illuminated wings, and only the Heir Apparent had violet wings. Purple was the colour of the royal family, the family she was leaving behind.

She felt a pang of loss leaving at Dawn behind, but Dawn would never survive where she was going. It was safer for her here. Inwardly she sent a silent plea that she may see her sister again someday.

It was difficult leaving the castle on foot. Having lived there all her life, Marianne knew every nook and cranny of her childhood home, so it was easy to slip past the guards. The fields themselves were a different story, as it was flat and she could be spotted for miles. Much like her swordsmanship, the cloak proved itself many times that night, and soon enough the primroses came into view.

Fear, the sister to fury, clawed at her heart. Flashbacks of creatures with teeth and claws invaded her mind. Her hand gripped her sword. She gritted her teeth.

Handmaidens long gone, left to sleep in the castle without knowledge of their princess’ disappearance, would soon wake in panic at the absence of their mistress. The king would worry, Dawn would wonder, the kingdom would search for her.

Stepping over the threshold of kingdoms, Marianne took her first step into the Dark Forest.

* * *

Moonlight trickled through the leaves, casting strange shapes among the shadows. The Dark Forest was eerie, giving a sense of constantly being watched. So far, no creature or goblin had confronted her. The glint of her sword must have warned them off.

Deciding it was safe to show her wings, Marianne folded the cloak and tucked it under her arm. She carried no supplies save her sword, no mementos or trinkets to remember where she came from. Starting a new life in this forest would be hard, and she needed the King’s approval first.

Marianna had heard that there was a newly crowned King in the Dark Forest. Rumour had it he was just like his father, and he took over after his mother, the Queen Regent when he reached the appropriate age. There wasn’t much else known about him, and Marianne prayed that his benevolence would allow her to stay. She couldn’t go back after this. That green world didn’t suit her anymore.

A whisper reached her pointed ear. She spun around, searching for the source of the sound. Nothing but foliage and fungi met her eye. The whispering stopped. Eyeing a flat mushroom top, she placed a foot on the cap to achieve a proper take-off. The mushroom groaned in protest.

Sword flashing in the moonlight, Marianne pointed her weapon at the stalk of the mushroom. Terrified eyes looked back at her.

“Which way to the King’s castle?” she ordered coldly. Her weapon raked higher on the creature. “Tell me, or lose your head.”

The Mushroom gulped and indicated south-east with its cap. Along the sight there were a few red caps to lead the way.

“The Amanita Red Caps mark the way?” the creature nodded. Marianne sheathed her sword.

“Do not tell the King of my arrival. I wish to announce myself.” And with that, she took off to the skies.

Within a few minutes of heavy flying the castle came into view. It was difficult to see at first, as it blended in with it’s surrounding perfectly, creating excellent camouflage without sacrificing intimidation factors. A large fox skull protruded at the end of a well-decayed stump, indicating its entrance.

 _Well_ , thought Marianne, _it’s now or never._

Steeling her resolve, she landed at the mouth (which was surprisingly devoid of guards) and entered the yawning maw.

The soft moonlight was replaced by a warm light in the interior of the castle. Upon further observation, the light seemed to be coming from a smattering of lightening bugs reflecting glowing bits of amber imbedded in the wood. The effect was dim, but effective.

Walking further into the castle, Marianne began to notice the silence building in volume the farther she walked. At first it was unnoticeable, then it was deafening. Her gut tightened and fists clenched. Castles, in her experience, were always full of people making noise and clatter. A silence like this made her uneasy.

She held her head high and her back straight; she was a royal at birth and no manner of self-banishment would rid her of her royal upbringing. Her footsteps became heavier and the yelling became closer. Marianne tensed as the light of the throne room came into view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment for either myself or Gyspy_Leprechaun, we'd love to hear what you think!


	3. Familiar Blue

The throne room was spacious and as dimly lit as the rest of the castle. There was a large glass window overhead, but it seemed to be covered by encroaching moss. Below the window, a wide vertebra was wedged into the ceiling to the floor. A lone figure sat slumped in the wide throne, making it seem small. It didn’t move.

Marianne stepped quietly into the room, her movements precise and strong. Each footstep echoed in the wide expanse of the room, and the figure on the throne still didn’t move. She was out in the open, completely in view. Fingers felt for her sword, nestled safely at her hip, her wings brushed the ground lightly, stirring up small flecks of dust into the stale air.

The figure became clearer the closer she stepped. He was lanky, and covered in rough armour of some kind. His head was bowed, and a long scepter with a bright amber gem rested on the side of the throne. From where she stood, Marianne could see he was breathing lightly. He still did not acknowledge her.

She stopped eight paces from the throne, customary for a visiting regent. Sweeping her wings behind her, she gave a small bow indicating a modicum of respect.

“Greetings Your Majesty, King of the Dark Forest.”

The man scoffed. “Ah do not feel like much of a King, stranger.” He still did not raise his head. Disrespect. “Leave, Ah am in no mood to quarry with rabble this night. Be gone with ye.” He waved a long clawed hand dismissively.

Hot anger rose in Marianne’s throat. This was most unexpected. He did not follow any of the polite protocol expected of a ruling monarch, and did not even show her an ounce of respect! She forced herself to swallow the indignation and carried on.

“Your Majesty, I seek-“

“Ah do no’ care what ye want!” The King raised his head and looked her dead in the eye. Blue swarmed her vision. Blue like the summer sky. He showed no signs of acknowledging her regent status. “Leave!”

Marianne looked into those eyes, and saw painful familiarity. She recognized that look of tired anger, eyes strained to keep from crying. Those blue eyes held sadness and contempt, but no real anger. Dim eyes that were swallowed by love, and spat out like a bitter word. The king was in love. And he was heartbroken.

Within those eyes, Marianne felt a cold understanding. And she was furious.

“How dare you!” Fire pooled in her veins. “How dare you refuse me without hearing my request! How dare you sit at your throne like a wounded animal when you have no spine or sense to hear me out!”

The King gritted his teeth, but made no move to stand. “Ah am the King here, stranger. Ah do as ah please.”

Marianne’s hand found the hilt of her sword, but she did not draw. “I will not stand for this insolent behaviour against my person. You will hear me out!”

Still he didn’t move from his throne. “It is not mah wish to hear yer demands. Leave, or ah will have guards escort y’out”.

“So now you won’t even make me leave yourself? What kind of pitiful King are you?”

He growled. Marianne’s sword sang from her sheath. She pointed it at the vulnerable neck of the King.

“Stand up, you pitiful excuse for a ruler! Stand and fight me.”

Marianne took a threatening step towards the throne. The King slowly rose, grabbing the sceptre that had been leaning against the throne and pushed her blade-point aside. He was taller than she expected, the slumped form in the chair never looked this large. His height intimidated her briefly, but she only faltered for a moment.

“Leave!” He demanded, gesturing towards the entrance.

“Not until you make me.” Came Marianne’s gritted reply. And with her blade poised, the battle began.

The king was no real opponent. Even though he parried each swing of her sword with expert movements, there was no real power in them. His movements were sluggish and frail, only defending and not making any attempts to switch to the offensive. Marianne felt as if she was fighting a weary opponent.

“You move like an old man. I was expecting more.” Marianne stated.

The king grunted as he continued to slow. There was no power behind his parries, and the fairy began to bore. Marianne got in a good push and the king fell hard on the throne room floor. Blue eyes looked up at her with stark surprise, and for a moment he looked as if he was about to cry.

Their eyes remained locked for a moment before the king stood, with surprise still written on his face but with something foreign in his eyes behind the exhaustion.

“Come back when you are a true opponent.” Marianne spat.

The lanky King stilled for a brief moment, as if thinking. Then, without a word, he left.  
Sheathing her sword, the sound suddenly louder than ever in the empty throne room, Marianne turned to sit down in the throne. She looked up at the covered skylight, small threads of moonlight trickling through the moss.

 _Well,_ she mused. _I guess I’m Queen now._

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was partly inspired by a thought of Marianne is Beetle Battle armour, and partly by shoving friends headfirst into the Strange Magic fandom. Gypsy_Leprechaun, you are welcome.


End file.
